65. Beware of Falling into the Trap of Self-Justification

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In an aging residential complex, He Honglu exited the live broadcast room of “The King of All Singers.” After confirming that all the recent videos had been saved successfully, she dialed a number.

“Hello, Lawyer Li? I’ve gathered some evidence proving Hai Dachuan’s violent tendencies. Yes, this time I want to petition the court to restrict Hai Dachuan’s visitation rights to my daughter, Hai Lan…”

Only after receiving confirmation from the lawyer that this was feasible did He Honglu hang up. The memory of what she’d just seen in the live broadcast lingered in her mind—Hai Dachuan’s words, “I’ve beaten her since she was little,” stabbed at her heart like a thorn. Agony and indignation filled her eyes.

In her youth, she’d failed to see Hai Dachuan’s true character and married him. Later, when the mistress appeared at their door with a child, she could no longer endure the humiliation and divorced him in anger. Back then, she believed that although Hai Dachuan was a scoundrel in love, he could still be a good father, so she left their daughter with the Hai family.

She never imagined that this would lead to Hai Lan’s years of abuse. If she hadn’t later discovered something was wrong with her daughter, who knows what would have become of her. This time, too, it was her refusal to accept the show’s invitation that gave Hai Dachuan another opportunity to harm their child.

“My daughter… I’m sorry,” He Honglu murmured. For the first time, she realized that ever since her marriage failed, she’d immersed herself in work and hadn’t been a qualified mother.

“Sis! I just got a call—the show Hai Lan’s participating in invited me as a guest! No matter how you try to stop me this time, I’m going!” Her sister’s voice arrived before she did; He Hongjing burst out of her room, dragging a suitcase behind her.

Clad in a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and sporting a few strands of dyed silver hair, the trendy He Hongjing, at thirty-five, looked nothing of her age. He Honglu gazed at her ever-troublesome sister. Since she’d rescued her daughter from Hai Dachuan, it was He Hongjing who had taken care of her most of the time.

Unconsciously, Hai Lan had come under the influence of her unmarried, rock-loving aunt and fallen in love with rock music herself. But in He Honglu’s eyes, anyone who played rock was unreliable—the best evidence being her own sister, who, well into her thirties, refused to marry, dressed outrageously, and came and went at all hours. If she weren’t her own sister, He Honglu would have thrown her out long ago.

But the irrepressible He Hongjing seemed oblivious to her sister’s disdain, nearly out the door and still muttering to herself, “Looks like some event is about to start, I need to hurry—”

“I’ll drive you,” He Honglu sighed.

He Hongjing stopped mid-step, turned back in surprise and delight. “Sis! Are you really my biological sister?!”

Was the sun rising in the west? Her sister wasn’t stopping her but helping her instead.

“Well, are you coming or not?” He Honglu prompted, jingling her car keys uneasily.

“Coming, coming!”

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On Robin Island, the show’s filming continued. Some variety shows deliberately manufacture drama for ratings. As long as it didn’t disrupt the fairness of the competition, “The King of All Singers” never missed a chance to highlight contestants’ conflicts. Some shows, even when filming went peacefully, would maliciously edit footage to create controversy.

This had become the norm in the Dragon Country’s entertainment industry. So, even though Liu Qi had the camera operator redirect the lens, the audience drawn by the trending topic #Ji FanxingHitsSomeone# didn’t think too deeply about it. Most assumed it was just the production team stirring up trouble and left while grumbling.

Yet on Weibo, the topic didn’t die down entirely; many were still discussing the matter, expressing sympathy for Hai Lan having such a father. Some felt Ji Fanxing was just collateral damage, while others believed that “flies don’t buzz around a flawless egg”—if she hadn’t done something, no one would be after her.

After handling the situation on set, Liu Qi’s phone buzzed. It was a reply to the message he’d sent earlier—just five words: “Received, leave it to me.”

Still a bit annoyed that he needed outside help to complete the boss’s task, Liu Qi replied reluctantly: “Ji Fanxing has some real talent. Try to sign her to the company if you can.”

The reply came back, again five words: “Got it. You nag.”

“Bah! Miser! What an act!” Liu Qi spat at his phone.

He stowed it away and looked up, only to lock eyes unexpectedly with Ji Fanxing. He immediately glanced away.

Ji Fanxing sat on a bench, resting her chin in one hand, watching Liu Qi and taking in every nuance of his expression.

“What’s he so guilty about?” Ji Fanxing raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Fanxing, for dragging you into this.” Before she could dwell on it, Hai Lan’s apologetic voice interrupted her thoughts.

Ji Fanxing withdrew her gaze and said comfortingly, “Hai Lan, you don’t need to apologize. None of this was your fault.”

Seeing Hai Lan’s state earlier, Ji Fanxing saw a reflection of her past self. In her previous life, she’d been misunderstood for injuring her elder sister, and later slandered as the culprit behind a secret recording, which led to her ruin and public condemnation.

No matter how she explained, even kneeling before her father and begging him to believe her, it was useless. Only much later did she realize that explanations were futile.

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Why explain when you bear no fault? Forcing an explanation only traps you in a cycle of self-justification, making those who misunderstand you even more convinced of their beliefs.

The best way is to step out of the circle painted by your accusers and let them question themselves.

Ji Fanxing had seen it all in her years. From Hai Lan’s father’s attitude earlier, the whole picture was clear—Hai Lan had not had an easy life. No wonder her demeanor offstage was so different from her radiant presence onstage.

In her previous life, Hai Lan had lost her spot in the finals after being secretly photographed by Li Sheng and having nude photos leaked. Given the conservative values of the Dragon Country and with a father like that, who knows what became of her afterward…

Looking at Hai Lan, two years her junior, Ji Fanxing earnestly hoped that in this life, this girl could go further along her musical path.

“Hai Lan, have you chosen your song for the finals?” As rivals on stage, this was a sensitive question. If another contestant had asked, Hai Lan would’ve stayed silent or walked away.

But with Ji Fanxing, whom she saw as a friend, Hai Lan answered candidly, “I plan to sing ‘Return.’”

“‘Return’?” Ji Fanxing frowned as she recalled the melody.

“Return” was one of the signature songs of the Dragon Country rock band “No Limits” from twenty years ago, well-known and widely sung.

But… Ji Fanxing glanced at the young Hai Lan. The song felt too dated for her.

Like rap, rock music in the Dragon Country was a niche genre. The difference was, rap attracted the youth, while rock had peaked over thirty years ago; its fans were mostly older now.

Few young people in the Dragon Country liked rock music anymore, and almost no rock songs had broken through to mainstream popularity in recent years. In the eyes of the youth, rock had become a sunset genre.

It was rare to see someone like Hai Lan—passionate about rock, supremely talented. She deserved a fresher song, one that would let everyone feel the charm of rock music and see just how dazzling and confident the real Hai Lan could be.

The history of rock music in Huaxia was similar, yet it had remained vibrant in the 21st century, producing many outstanding works.

After thinking for a moment, Ji Fanxing asked, “Hai Lan… There’s a song I’d like to recommend to you. Would you be interested?”